A War Too Far

by David Lee Corley

  Dewey understood the need to train the Viet Minh as a fighting unit at the company level. They had been lucky in their assault on the Japanese platoon. The Japanese were outnumbered and taken by surprise. Granier’s killing the platoon commander at the beginning of the firefight gave the Viet Minh a decisive edge. But the placement of the Viet Minh forces was unimaginative. They were positioned in one line hidden in the trees. There was no flanking force or reserve. That was a mistake. If the Japanese had survived longer than they did, they could have outflanked the Viet Minh and turned the tide of the battle.

  Most Viet Minh were farmers and tradesmen; they knew little about fighting. The idea behind the training was that this core group could teach the other Viet Minh the skills and techniques they had learned – the student continually becoming the teacher until an entire army was trained and ready to fight the Japanese. Dewey was unsure how long the war with the Japanese would last, but he would carry out his orders in this little corner of the world to the best of his ability.

  Dewey put himself in charge of training the Viet Minh unit commanders. He would teach his classes under the forest canopy near the village, drawing diagrams in the dirt with a stick to show correct unit formations and tactics.

  Giap paid particular attention and translated for the commanders in the group. He had no formal military training and yet was the military leader of the Viet Minh. He had read many historical military books on tactics but most involved much larger armies than the Viet Minh force currently available. As he listened to Dewey, pieces of a puzzle snapped together in his head. His questions were pointed and probing. He caught on quickly, and would often walk back to the village with Dewey after the class to ask more questions. “What determines victory from defeat?” asked Giap as he walked with Dewey.

  “Many things. But it is important to remember the goal of battle. It’s not to wipe out the enemy entirely. It’s to eliminate his will to fight. Battle often gets down to will. Who is willing to continue fighting when all is lost. There are many stories of battles that seemed lost but were eventually won because the soldiers would not give up,” said Dewey. “When you fight, and both sides are thrashing each other, remember that your opponent is suffering just as you suffer. They may seem strong in one moment only to become weak and fatigued a few moments later. Victory is won in moments. Sometimes, one final push is all it takes.”

  “Then, one should never retreat or surrender?”

  “No. I wouldn’t say that. At times it is better to survive to fight another day. That’s what makes a great leader – the ability to know when to press on and when to call it a day and save what you can. You must be brave but also use your head. Always be measuring and calculating. The commander must not fight, but think for his men.”

  “You have fought in many battles?”

  “No. Not many. I served in Europe in the early part of the war. My unit parachuted behind enemy lines during the occupation of Paris. We worked with the French underground to disrupt the German lines of communication and supply. We had a few scraps with the Nazis, but mostly we just skulked around trying not to be discovered while we blew things up. To be honest, war is mostly boredom punctuated by a few moments of terror. At least mine was.”

  “When the war is won, where will you go?”

  “Wherever they tell me. Back to the States, I would imagine. No sense in keeping millions of soldiers on the payroll with no war to fight. And you… when the war is over?”

  “I would like to go back to teaching history. But we must defeat the French first if they chose to fight. Do you think they will fight us once the Japanese leave?”

  “I don’t know. I know they feel Indochina is still theirs, but the war has taken a great toll on France. They may have more important things to tend to… like rebuilding their country.”

  “I hope so. War is a terrible thing. But we will fight if we must. Independence must be won before I can return to a normal life. We may not get another chance.”

  Dewey had put Granier in charge of weapons training. Each day he would march one hundred Viet Minh five miles away from the camp, so the practice gunshots would not lead the Japanese to the Viet Minh. Guards were posted in all directions while he instructed them on how to properly fire and maintain their rifles.

  Granier showed them how to strip down, clean, and reassemble their rifles. He made them practice the procedure until it was second nature. He would have preferred to blindfold each soldier, so they learned how to disassemble and reassemble their weapons in the dark, but there wasn’t time.

  There were a lot of Viet Minh to train. Each man was allowed twenty practice shells to improve his accuracy. Granier ensured that the precious ammunition was not wasted. He taught them the five keys to accurate shooting – determining the distance to target, lining up the iron sight while properly adjusting for distance and wind, proper breathing techniques, keeping both eyes open, and squeezing the trigger rather than pulling or jerking it. He broke them into groups of five and watched closely as each soldier took his practice shots. He taught them to quickly clear jams and load their weapon, tapping the shells in a clip on a hard surface to align them properly.

  Granier was not a gentle teacher and often cursed at them, but his instructions were clear and correct. By the end of his mini-course, his students knew the basics and could practice on their own. He made himself available whenever anyone had a question. He knew that his life and the lives of his team members would depend on his pupils properly firing their weapons. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  Soldiers with the best accuracy were singled out for further training as snipers. He had requested seven sniper rifles with scopes to be delivered in one of the upcoming supply drops. In the meantime, he let them practice with his rifle and made damn sure they didn’t damage it or drop it in the dirt. Mishandling of his rifle was punished by a swift kick in the ass with his boot. The Viet Minh learned quickly to respect their firearms.

  Green taught courses in self-defense and knife-fighting techniques. Santana instructed them in hand signals and small unit tactics. Hoagland trained them in basic first aid and picked out several of the better students to receive further training as medics. Davis broke off a group of what seemed like the most intelligent Viet Minh and taught them in the use of explosives and simple engineering techniques. They would become a team of sappers. And everyone participated in teaching the Viet Minh to march correctly. They were drilled for an hour each morning and an hour at night. Drilling taught them to maneuver as a group, discipline, and unit pride. The Viet Minh would need to become an army, not just a band of rebels, if they were going to defeat the Japanese.

  The sun was a diffused ball of light in a gray sky. It was muggy. It had rained most of the afternoon and had just stopped. The grass was wet, and the ground soggy. Bad footing, thought Granier as he laid on his belly on the top of a hill, peering through his rifle’s scope at the valley below.

  A typical Vietnamese village filled much of the valley. Rice farmers tended their crops, pulling young plants from one part of a field and re-planting them in another. Well-trodden paths compressed the top of the dikes that kept the precious rainwater from flowing away. Water buffalo cooled off in knee-deep water. Children played, mostly pretending to be soldiers, using sticks as guns and rocks as grenades. That’s what they knew… war. There were huts with thatched roofs and fences made of tree branches to keep the animals out of the gardens. Railroad tracks stretched across the valley floor and split the countryside.

  There was a small Japanese outpost with a squad of six soldiers at one end of the valley. Taking it out would be like running over a shallow pothole, an inconvenience at most. Everything was as Granier was told it would be by the Viet Minh scouts. They had excellent intelligence. That’s what bothered Granier. It seemed too good. But then again, this was their country.

  The supply train will be coming soon, he thought as he shifted his scope’s view to a section of track in the
middle of the valley. Davis, led by Spitting Woman and escorted by two Viet Minh soldiers, made his way over the dikes and through the fields, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Granier had objected when Dewey ordered a Viet Minh scout rather than him to escort Davis. Dewey’s thinking was that the Viet Minh could more easily reassure any Vietnamese that they came in contact with as they approached the target. Granier couldn’t do that. He didn’t speak Vietnamese and was a foreigner. Granier’s assignment was still vital to the success of the mission. He was the overwatch. He could take out any target within the valley with his sniper rifle. If the shit hit the fan, he would become God. Their lives would be in his hands.

  Davis waited until nobody was in sight before he emerged from a nearby rice field and ran to the railroad tracks. He removed his pack and opened the top flap. He pulled out his bayonet and dug a hole beneath a rail. The gravel beneath the rails and ties was highly compressed, which made the digging difficult but would make the explosion more powerful by reversing the concussion waves back into the rail. The TNT explosive charges were half-pound rectangular blocks. He had decided that three charges were the appropriate amount to cut the rail efficiently and he added an additional charge for good measure. He didn’t like wasting explosives because he never knew when he might be asked to blow something up and he hated to run out. He placed a blasting cap in each of the four charges. The blasting caps already had electrical wires connected. It was just a matter of twisting the ends of the electrical wires together and connecting to a long wire that would eventually connect to an electronic detonator a safe distance away from the explosion.

  When he was satisfied with the wiring, he slid the four TNT blocks beneath the rail. They seemed a perfect size – the width of a rail. The Viet Minh had suggested removing the rail to instigate the train crash, but he knew that to be risky. Although not probable, it was possible that the train would just keep on going, even without the rail, and jump back onto the rail on the other end. They couldn’t risk it. An explosion would sever the rail and, just as importantly, curve the severed ends upward so that the broken rail hit the train’s wheels as they passed. The train was guaranteed to derail. He buried the four TNT blocks and the wires with the gravel he had dug from the hole so that everything looked normal from a short distance, in case the Japanese squad at the end of the valley decided to inspect the rail before the train passed through. He doubted they would be so diligent, but he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances.

  He unspooled the electric wire as he crawled back over the nearest dike and into the rice fields with the two Viet Minh and Spitting Woman. Laying against the opposite slope of the dike, Davis took out the detonator from his pack, gave the handle a half wind, licked his fingers, placed them on the terminals and pushed the detonator’s handle to release the charge. It shocked him, burning the tips of his wet fingers. He jerked his hand away. The detonator was working properly. He placed the exposed ends of the wire into the terminals. He would wait to arm it with several twists of the handle. If the train was close and the detonator went off by accident, all would not be lost. He gave a hand signal to Granier who he knew would be watching. He was ready.

  Granier was watching through his scope and relayed the message to Dewey and the others with a hand signal. They did not want to attract any attention that might alert the Japanese squad in the valley who might, in turn, warn the engineer when the train arrived.

  Dewey checked the Viet Minh positions. There were over four hundred Viet Minh, armed with Japanese rifles, hidden in the trees on the hillside. There were twelve light machinegunners that would take out any enemy machinegun or mortar positions plus lay down covering fire if the demolition team needed to retreat quickly for whatever reason.

  A squad of twenty Viet Minh armed with knee mortars was formed into a makeshift artillery battery. They would break from the woods and run down the hillside until they were within range of the train before letting loose their rocket-shaped grenades. Their job was to pin down any Japanese troops that attempted to advance from the train or outpost. Dewey signaled back that the Viet Minh were ready. Now all they needed was the train, due to arrive any minute.

  Granier decided to take another peek at the Japanese outpost. He panned his rifle sight over and scanned the area for Japanese soldiers. They were where he had last seen them, milling around the outpost, talking and joking like nothing was amiss. Good, thought Granier. Stay oblivious just a little while longer.

  As he moved his rifle sight back toward the demolition team, something caught his eyes. Five water buffalo were exiting the village. A little girl with a stick directed them to cross the railroad tracks to the side the demolition team was on. She was singing to the water buffalo reassuring them, keeping them calm. It was strange to see the hulking beasts obeying the little girl as if she was their undisputed master. Any one of them could have easily trampled her, but she was unafraid. When one of them veered from the path she wanted them to take, she scolded the disobedient animal and threatened it by shaking her stick. The animal changed its course, and she praised it for being a good water buffalo.

  What concerned Granier was that the water buffalo were dragging their hooves on the dirt and gravel alongside the tracks. If they crossed the area where the wire had been buried, they might pull up the wire and even break it. At that moment, Granier heard the sound of the train whistle as it entered the far end of the valley. “Damn it,” he said to himself.

  He thought for a moment and decided his only option was to shoot the water buffalo if they got too close. That would alert the Japanese outpost, who would alert the train and the whole operation would go down in flames. It might even endanger Spitting Woman and the demolition team who were far closer to the Japanese outpost than any of the other Viet Minh. He decided to make this Davis’ problem and let him handle the new threat. The only problem was that Davis and the rest of the demolition team were looking in the direction the approaching train, not at Granier. This was also in the opposite direction to the water buffalo, making them unaware of the approaching animals. There wasn’t much time. Granier considered crawling down there and dealing with the problem himself, but he was concerned he might accidentally tip off the Japanese outpost and reveal the demolition team’s position.

  The train appeared through the trees in the distance. There were nine heavy machineguns surrounded by sandbags on top of the cars pulled by the locomotive. Over one hundred Japanese troops rode on top of the cars where the air was cooler. More were inside the troop cars, reinforcements for the Japanese army in China.

  Granier looked around for a way of getting Davis’ attention without drawing the attention of the soldiers at the outpost. He spotted one of the Viet Minh riflemen among the trees. He had a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back. Granier was unsure what the man was thinking by bringing the ancient weapon into battle, but then decided it wasn’t a half-bad idea. It was a long-range weapon that was silent. He motioned for the bowman to come over by him. The bowman crawled over. Granier pointed to the demolition team, then to the man’s arrows. He made the motion for the man to shoot an arrow at the team, but then made the motion not to hit them. He motioned for the arrow to land beside them and get their attention. The bowman nodded that he understood and nocked an arrow onto his bow. He took careful aim and launched the arrow into the sky. To Granier’s surprise, the arrow came down exactly where he had motioned, just two feet away from Davis. “Nice shot,” said Granier. “He’s gonna be pissed.”

  Davis jerked around when he saw the arrow land next to him. He thought it might have come from the outpost, but he didn’t see anyone with a bow. He looked back up the hill and saw Granier signaling him about the approaching water buffalo. He looked over at the water buffalo and nodded that he received the message, then flipped Granier off for shooting an arrow so close to him.

  Spitting Woman saw the approaching water buffalo and the little girl. She looked back at the approaching train and decided she mu
st do something. She grabbed Davis empty pack and ran stooped down fifty feet along the dike toward the little girl. “Where the hell you going?” said Davis.

  She picked a large rock and placed it in Davis’ pack. She moved as far as the intersecting dike wall fifty feet away from the spot where the explosives were placed. She waited until the water buffalo, then the little girl passed. Spitting Woman popped up holding the pack and looking inside like there was something of interest. She made noises like she was very happy and surprised by whatever was in the pack. The little girl stopped and looked at Spitting Woman and the pack. Spitting Woman looked over at the little girl and then pointed into the pack. The little girl stood on her toes to see what was in the pack. Spitting Woman teased her by tilting the pack forward but kept her from seeing the contents. The water buffalo slowed to within ten yards of where the wire was buried and started munching on the grass along the side of the tracks. Spitting Woman motioned for the little girl to look inside the pack. Curiosity got the best of the little girl, and she walked over, climbing up the opposite side of the dike. Spitting Woman leaned the pack forward so the little girl could see the rock inside. The little girl frowned disappointedly. Too late, Spitting Woman reached out and grabbed the little girl pulling her over the dike and to the opposite side. The little girl struggled and screamed. The water buffalo looked over at the commotion for a moment then went back to eating the grass.

  The train sped past the Japanese outpost and blew its whistle. The Japanese soldiers at the outpost waved it off like it was nothing, just another routine supply train. The train sped toward the demolition team’s position.

  One of the water buffalo saw a nice patch of grass next to the train tracks directly across the demolition team’s hiding place. It walked over, dragging its hooves.